Beauty, Love, Pleasure
by Social Twist
Summary: Harry and Draco know love, beauty and pleasure. But what are they?Define then, for me. One-shot slash. may be a bit high in rating.Slash. please R


Disclaimer: I own nothing and i am making no money

What is beauty? Can any one define it? Describe it , give it a character , personify it. Draco Malfoy couldn't , not honestly.

There were some who said that he was beautiful. They praised his flawless white marble skin, his deep grey eyes, and his silver spun hair. They marvelled at his hands, so defined, so petite, so delicate the nails healthy and well shaped. His frame was widely admired, slender and perfect, aristocratic. Not a freckle, not a blemish stained the boys body.

Many thought Draco Malfoy was beautiful.

Others thought his beauty was tainted by his personality, by his background, by his father. But still they did admit he was beautiful.

Beautiful. Handsome. Fetching. Breathtaking. Pretty. Gorgeous . Stunning. All words describing something so indefinable, so untouchable.

But what did they mean? They were empty useless words. Anything could be called beautiful. And there was no way of knowing whether it was true anyway.

But Harry Potter knew.

He knew Draco was beautiful. But he did not define his beauty by his looks.

It went deeper then that.

Harry thought Draco was beautiful, when he had just woken up, and his hair was mussed, his eyes sleepy, and imprints from the way he slept on his face. He was beautiful because he always smiled the minute he saw Harry, which made the dark-haired boy feel a king.

Harry thought Draco was beautiful, when the boy was covered in dirt and grim, from watching the Griffindor practise Quidditch in the rain. Seeing the silver and alabaster covered in dark dirt and dull water, made the Griffindors heart swell.

Harry thought Draco was beautiful, when he ran all the way to Harry's workplace, because he had forgotten some papers. He was red-faced and slightly sweating, but he was so perfect.

Harry thought Draco was beautiful, when he walked into the house late at night, and saw Draco asleep on the couch , since he had tried to stay awake for Harry coming home.

Oh, yes: Harry Potter knew Beauty.

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How many ways could one person love.

Love is such an indescribable emotion. To some it was a fondness, a likening. Too others, it overwhelmed their entire souls.

People learn about love. They are told what love is, how to achieve it. They are told it is a wonderful thing, something that a person should strive for all their lives.

Many people , thought Harry Potter was loved. A boy, whose very parents had died for him out of love for him. They whole wizarding world adored him. They owe him so much, and worship him in return. Whether they admitted to love him did not matter, because in the end, they too felt the heady rush, whenever he walked by.

But what is love?

A mother will love her child. That is love.

A friend will love a friend. This is love.

A lover will love their lover. This is love.

But, a man also loves money. A child loves attention. A student loves a pass. A Quidditch player loves a win.

It all is love. Yet none will define it.

Draco Malfoy knew love.

He loved it when, Harry made him breakfast in bed. He loved the way it made him feel ; loved, wanted protected, pampered. Only Harry had done this.

He loved it when he feel asleep on the couch, and woke up in bed. The though that Harry was gentle enough and careful enough to move him, made him warm inside. Only Harry would do that.

He loved it when Harry smiled at him when he pouted and complained. He could never help but cheer up, and smile back. Only Harry could do that. It made him feel to happy, so content.

He loved it when, Harry wrapped his arms around him from behind, catching him off guard. He loved knowing Harry had his back, that he had someone who was always there for him.

Draco Malfoy loves many things; all of which were Harry.

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Two figures lay on a bed. Moonlight filtered though the window, gentle caressing the two men, and bathing them in eternity.

One in alabaster skin, lay beneath a tanned figure. Long delicate fingers, wound their way onto thick dark hair, urging a mouth to meet its lover. Lips meet and parted, dancing teasing, communicating in the most basic way known to the world. Hands ghosted over smooth responsive skin, tracing a well know map. Nerves were set on fire by teasing tongues, and pleasure was evoked by lips. Lips and fingers worshiped the other, until need and desperation drove them to end the gentle teasing. A joining, so perfect, so fitting, it was hard to consider it beautiful or love. Moans and cries echo each other, and time becomes meaningless and uneventful. A peak is reached in which you are aware of every beat of your lovers heart, but you can not feel your body. Where grey eyes and green eyes meet, but see nothing.

Think about it.

When your eyes are closed in blissful pleasure, who can tell who is beautiful?

And when pleasure overwhelms your senses, who cared whether it was given in love?

Pleasure can mean so many things. It does not promise anything but the moment. It is honest and definable.

But it can still be empty without love or beauty.

Beauty will enhance you pleasure, while love will make it last longer.

But what is beauty!

What is love!

One thing is for sure.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy know all three.

A/N

Just a though I had running around in my head. Sorry if it did not make sense or have a plot or anything. I just wanted a break from my other fics.

Please review , just to let me know what you think.

Thanks

Review!


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